Blinding Sun
by TsubakiTwilight
Summary: Tsuna watches the boy – the Sun – from afar and wonders how blind everyone must be to not see that the Sun is wearing a mask so fragile that it could shatter at any moment. AU! M!OCxTsuna. Bittersweet drabbles and glimpses into a life and love.
1. Chapter 1

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[Re: Enter Sawada Tsunayoshi]

Brittle bones and two black eyes from not being fast enough, not being strong enough, not _being_ enough. Pale skin stretched thin over muscles and sinew – a canvas full of dark violets and bright greens and sickly yellows and deep reds. His hollowed heart yearns for something bright and warm and blazing to fill it and burn away the cobwebs and dust clinging to his bones. The taste of curry and a tiny kitchen where the rest the world is locked outside and coffee stick to his teeth and line the back of his throat whenever he breathes. Stuttered exhales. Wanted to be an astronaut, then a ballerina, then a robot, now he just wants to be accepted. His body is weak, his heart empty, his mind bogged down by the poisonous whispers and jeers he faces on a daily basis. He dreams of the blue, blue sky and sometimes he feels the center of his forehead growing hot, hot, _hot_ -

His knees are chapped raw and rough from falling and his hands and feet bleed from rising up time after time after time after time. Some nights he wonders what the point of everything is – why bother getting back up again?

(He doesn't have an answer to that.)

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[Photokeratisis – aka Snow Blindness]

It starts with the Sun.

He's thinking about the math test he undoubtedly failed and his mother's strained smile this morning and which route hasn't he used this week to avoid his tormentors and if he had enough money on him to buy a bottle of aspirin and a roll of gauze, when it happens.

He looks up from the cracked pavement and sees a boy walking in front of him.

He falls to his knees and is completely and utterly _blinded_.

That boy is the Sun personified.

There's sun-blond hair and sun-kissed skin and a smile that has all the brilliance and warmth of the sun and Tsuna stares at the Sun until his own eyes begin water and bleed. He cannot – _will not_ – tear his eyes away from the Sun.

He is blinded and he doesn't mind.

The Sun doesn't notice him.

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[Watching]

Tsuna watches the boy – _the Sun_ – from afar and he meticulously catalogues all the times the Sun's teeth shine too brightly in the morning light and the way the Sun throws his head back with laughter and how totally _empty_ those molten gold-eyes are.

(He wonders how blind everyone must be to not see that the Sun is wearing a mask so fragile that it could shatter at any moment.)

He watches as the Sun types something into his phone and turns it around to showcase whatever's on the screen to the shadowed mob of faceless-people flocking around him. Tsuna hears someone yell out a name and he dazedly realizes that it's the Sun's name.

He mouths the two words to himself, feeling each syllable and vowel burn his tongue and scorch the inside of his cheeks and set his veins on fire.

When Tsuna returns home, he's only thinking about the Sun and how the sunlight set those blond locks ablaze – like a halo on an angel.

One time, the Sun glanced in his direction and he was once again blinded by the rays of pure sunshine that made up the Sun's eyes - eyes that could chase away any darkness and light up any dawn sky.

(That night, Tsuna dreams of sunbeams and clear skies.)

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[Re: Enter The Sun]

Raw hands and a perpetually frozen smile on his face, for his parents, for his friends, for the world that will always want more, more, more, _give us more!_ Tanned skin stretched taut over a blazing skeleton and body – a moving history book full of recorded scars and bruises and wounds and scabs. His heart is still beating but it grows slower and slower each passing day. He yearns for something – _for someone_ – to appear and reignite the burning fire locked deep within in. His lips are chapped and bloodied from smiling too much, from his teeth digging painfully into the supple flesh, from his taunting smirk asking the world, is that they best they can do? The taste of smoke and a house he was returned to once, twice, three times and iron stains his taste buds and fill his stomach whenever he breathes. Slow inhales. Wanted to be a soccer player, then a pilot, then simply wanted to be wanted, now he just wants a home. His flesh is burned raw, his heart dying, his mind is far away – imagining warm embraces and loving words that will never be. He dreams of a sputtering golden-yellow Flame and sometimes he wakes and feels like _today he can do this and_ -

His muscles ache and burn from overexertion and his hands and mind throb from helping everyone one after another after another after another. Some nights he wonders, what would happen if he just stopped caring?

(He's too afraid to find out.)

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[First Meeting – Tsuna POV]

It's not an accident.

Tsuna plans and schemes and devises a way to get close to the Sun.

For once in his life, he goes after his tormentors. Entices the most infamous repeat offenders with the tantalizing whiff of easy prey and they bolt after him like rabid hounds hunting down a prey animal. They won't catch him though – not this time.

He loses them after and turns a corner and barrels straight into hot skin and searing warmth and looks upwards with triumphant eyes and-

The rest of the world blurs and melts away until only he and the Sun are there.

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[First Meeting – The Sun's POV]

It's a complete accident.

The Sun simpers and chats and flashes blinding smiles in order to escape the starving parasites trailing after him like moths drawn to a flame.

For once, he's left alone for a span of time longer than ten minutes. He uses that precious time to make his way out of school and into the mess of streets and alleyways that made up the inner section of Namimori. He won't let himself be caught – not this time.

He is about to turn a corner when something small and bony and oh so breakable comes racing from the other side and right into his chest and he looks down with resigned eyes and a plastic smile and-

He has to stifle a gasp as he stares into eyes as wide and clear as the summer sky.

(He feels electricity racing up his spine and his heart begins to beat faster.)

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[Things People Say About The Sun]

He's so kind and helpful. People throw themselves at his feet because he won't refuse anything or anyone. His smile is bright and cheerful. He has scars all across his body from people jealous of him. His parents are loaded with cash. He's a heartbreaker with that careless, charming grin of his. Don't you think he's kind of plastic and fake? Of course not! You're just seeing things! There's not a single mean bone in his body. He can't say no. He's not only super handsome but athletic and smart too! I heard he has three different girlfriends. His parents aren't his real parents. He is perfection. Why would someone get rid of him?

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[Watching Pt. 2]

 **i.** Tsuna's watching the Sun from across the school courtyard. He watches and notices that he Sun's hair is longer than it used to be and that it falls about his face like a golden, silken curtain. He tucks the longer strands behind a tanned ear and catches Tsuna's eyes as he turns to address another one of his many followers. Tsuna smiles. The Sun returns it.

 **ii.** The Sun watches Tsuna. The Sun watches Tsuna and Tsuna watches right back. He is still as small and delicate as the day they met all those months ago and the Sun feels something warm spark within him as the sight of Tsuna's smile. Another part of him freezes at the sight – still not used to having someone _there_ and looking out for him for once. If Tsuna is ice, the Sun will gladly let himself be frozen.

 **iii.** Tsuna watches the Sun again, this time from across the library table separating them. It's quiet, the sounds of hushed murmurs and the scratching of pencils echoing throughout the building. It's now exam season – one of the most stressful parts of the school year and for once, studying is the last thing on Tsuna's mind. He stares at the Sun's hunched form, molten-colored eyes trained on the book in front of him, long golden hair falling into his face, and one tanned hand splayed across the space adjacent to the book he was dissecting with his mind. Eyes the color of the sun look up at him. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Tsuna is blinded.

 **iv.** The Sun inhales. The poisonous nicotine filling and expanding his lungs. The Sun exhales. A cloud of grey smoke streaming out of his mouth and into the chilly, winter air. It's going to snow soon. The sound of a door swinging open draws his attention away from the rush of cars on the street, to the bakery entrance that he's standing next to. Tsuna emerges and the Sun can't help but rake his eyes over the thin, bony body that was Tsuna. Despite what everyone else thought of him, despite what he thought of himself, the Sun finds Tsuna to be completely mesmerizing. It's not the way the brunet walks nor is it how the brunet talks; it's how understanding and encompassing he is. He is like home. Tsuna's eyes meet his and the Sun forgets how to breathe. Tsuna smiles. The Sun can breathe once more. Tsuna _is_ Home. Tsuna is the Sky.

 **v.** Tsuna exhales. His breath warm and moist against the Sun's tanned skin. Tsuna inhales. The scent of sunshine and fire and cologne invading his nose and muddling his brain. It's 1:04 am. The bed creaks lightly as he moves upwards and away from the crook of the Sun's neck to glance out the window at the dark night sky. The Sun mumbles something in his sleep and Tsuna can't help but drag his eyes back towards the Sun. Despite what everyone thought of him, despite how he viewed himself, Tsuna finds the Sun to be completely mesmerizing. It's not the way the blond laughs and smiles at everyone nor is it the way that the blond voice seems to charm everyone he meets; it's how selfless and giving he is. Tsuna traces his hand lightly over a year-old scar on the Sun's arm. People weren't blinded enough by the brilliance that was the Sun. Tsuna was. He would never ask the Sun to do anything but shine.

 **vi.** The Sun inhales. Again. The poisonous nicotine filling and expanding his lungs. The Sun exhales. A cloud of grey smoke streaming out of his mouth and into the sticky, summer air. It's going to rain soon. The sound of a door swinging open draws his attention away from the rush of cars on the street, to the bakery entrance that he's standing next to. Tsuna emerges and the Sun can't help but rake his eyes over the thin, bony body that was Tsuna. Tsuna smiles and perhaps there might have been a world in which the two of them had never met like this and the Sun can't help but discard that traitorous thought. He has Tsuna – _his Sky_ – and that all that matters.

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[Things People Say About Sawada Tsunayoshi]

He's so pathetic and weak. People avoid him like the plague because he's so useless and undesirable. His eyes are so wide and dumb. He has scars all across his body because he's too weak to defend himself. His mother is a whore. He's a complete nobody with that scrawny body and wallflower personality. Don't you think it was kinda cool when he stood up to Mochida back in middle school? Of course not! The way Mochida beat him up was hilarious! There's not a single smart brain cell in his mind. He can't say stop. He's not only stupid but a klutz and waste of space. I heard even his mother doesn't love him. His parents must be so disappointed to have a son like him. Hasn't he been hanging out with [the Sun] recently? He will _always_ be Dame-Tsuna. The way he looks at [ _him_ ]… it's like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

* * *

 **In the midst of trying out a new writing style and rewriting** _ **Fujikage Ryota**_ **, I wanted to take Ryota's character down a… darker path in a sort of What-if story.**

 **May or may not be updated as a newer version of _Fujikage_ _Ryota_ , we'll see.**


	2. Chapter 2

[Lazy Mornings or The Sun thinks of Tsuna]

There is a fire nestled deep with his cavernous brown eyes and I love how it _burns_

He is natural

He is normal

He is breath-taking

The way his arms curl around me is intoxicating and indescribable

He is the embodiment of everything _good_ and _right_ in this too needy, too selfish, too _greedy_ world and he smells like coffee and curry and gentle words and picturesque smiles and a warm hearth and-

(I feel like I'm being _reborn_ with every feather-light touch and caress)

I feel like he could be _home_ for me

There will never be enough words to properly depict, to accurately describe all of his juxtapositions.

 _Tsuna_ _ **is**_ _Home._

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[Texts between Tsuna and The Sun]

 **4:19 am., Tsuna:** are you awake too?

 **4:20 am., The Sun** : yeah…

 **4:20 am., The Sun:** Are you doing ok?.

 **4:22 am., Tsuna:** I'm okay… can't sleep. It's cold without you

 **4:25 am., The Sun:** same. it feels weird without you next to me…

 **4:26 am., Tsuna:** you're coming back tomorrow, right?

 **4:29 am., The Sun:** yes! Fucking finally!

 **4:31 am., Tsuna:** don't sound too excited now~ ^-^

 **4:35 am., The Sun:** Oh my god. did you just actually type in that emoticon?! This isn't 2006!

 **4:38 am., Tsuna:** ;)

 **4:38 am., Tsuna:** (^ u ^) /

 **4:38 am., Tsuna:** xDDD

 **4:38 am., Tsuna:** d[^-^]b

 **4:39 am., Tsuna:** ( w )

 **4:39 am., The Sun:** okay okay! I get it!

 **4:40 am., Tsuna:** O : - )

 **4:42 am., The Sun:** :[aaay8

 **4:42 am., Tsuna:** ?

 **4:45 am., The Sun:** Sorry, dropped my phone and almost punched me in the face

 **4:46 am., Tsuna:** tired?

 **4:47 am., The Sun:** yeah… getting There.

 **4:47 am., Tsuna:** Then I'll let you sleep.

 **4:49 am., The Sun:** You sure? i don't mind staying up till you fall asleep.

 **4:50 am., Tsuna:** It's fine.

 **4:50 am., Tsuna:** your coming back tomorrow anyway! So I'll see you then!

 **4:52 am., The Sun:** yeah and I got you souvenirs!

 **4:54 am., Tsuna:** … I miss you.

 **5:01 am., Tsuna:** hello?

 **5:02 am., The Sun:** sorry! I was caught off guard by you saying that and ended up Just staring at my phone for a while…

 **5:03 am., The Sun:** I miss you too, Tsuna.

 **5:05 am., Tsuna:** :))

 **5:05 am., Tsuna:** See you tomorrow, Natsuki

 **5:06 am., Natsuki:** Yeah!

 **5:06 am., Natsuki:** Night Tsuna

 **5:07 am., Tsuna:** goodnight.

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 **[A crumpled note scrawled on a sheet of college-ruled paper and carelessly left on an overflowing desk in a dark room that looks like it belongs to a either a teenager that's on the cusp of maturing into an adult, or a young twenty-something year-old that hasn't quite outgrown his childhood.]**

When I am with you I feel complete again – whole again. You make me believe in myself once more and now I feel like I can do anything, be anything, be anyone. I feel like I can be more than what the world wants. I can be myself. Who I'm meant to be. I don't know what I want to do though or who I want to be… But, I do know that I want you by my side when I do figure it out and then for you to stay by my side through this journey called life. I should tell you how I truly feel one day – but I'm scared. Scared of losing you just when I'm starting to get to know you. Scared of driving you away from me. Scared of you leaving me just like everyone else in my life. I wonder if you'll wait for me to gather up my courage to tell you my true feelings?

I **(the next word has been crossed out multiple times)** **[pray]** hope that you do.

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[Inescapable Moniker]

"… Tsu-kun. Do you know whose jacket this is?" His mother's voice it tinged with curiosity and wonder.

"Oh! I was wondering where that ended up… where'd you find it?" There is palpable relief coloring Tsuna's voice – Natsuki had been looking for that particular jacket for the past few days.

"Underneath the staircase, but you still haven't answered my question, Tsu-kun!"

"Sorry! It belongs to a friend of mine!"

The rush of pride he feels at being able to say that elusive word – _friend_ – is ruthlessly cut down by his mother's response:

"A _'friend'_ … really? Why are you suddenly lying to me like that, Tsu-kun? We both know that you don't have any friends… you're Dame-Tsuna!" Tsuna's mother turns away with a forlorn sigh and a slow shake of her head. "Honestly… I thought I raised you better than that, Tsu-kun… lying to me like that…" As she walks away, she continues to mutter, "… Perhaps I bought this for Iemitsu and forgot about it… though it isn't his size… and I would never buy something so flashy for him…!"

An hour later, his mother speaks to him about something mundane and useless that he can't be bothered to remember.

Tsuna pretends that her words didn't slash his heart in two: but they do.

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[Suburban Judges]

It's a quarter to 5:00 pm. The sun hangs low in the dusk sky – the orange and pink and yellow and periwinkle blue blurring and mashing and swirling together until the hazy edges bleed into the darkening blackness of the encroaching night. The sun itself is colored a blinding white that casts stark shadows on the streets and faces of passing pedestrians.

Smoke curls lazily upwards from the lit cigarette dangling between the slightly chapped lips of _The_ resident _Sun_ of Namimori – Natsuki. He catches a flash of dark blue fabric and creamy milk skin in his peripheral vision and slants his head to meet the eyes of a group of giggling and red-faced women that have congregated at the end of the street.

A quick flash of a smile later has the gaggle of them laughing even louder and shuffling further down the street.

One of them however, the lone smart one it seems, looks at Natsuki with questioning eyes and a sharp frown.

 _What are you doing in front of THAT particular house?_ her demanding eyes ask.

 _None of your fucking business._ his responding sub-zero smile has her scampering away with hurried movements.

He can feel eyes on him now – groping and roving over his lax body and somehow the fine hairs of the back of his neck rise from the unseen – and unwelcome – stares. The relentless eyes are making his skin crawl and itch and he resists the urge to shudder and look away from the judgmental looks. He resists the urge to plaster on his plastic smile and bend to the whims of the parasites around him.

There is the sound of a door opening.

Natsuki lets the cigarette drop from his lips and he crushes it underfoot before turning with a smile – a _real_ smile.

"Tsuna."

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 **[stuffed between the pages of a travel book is a yellow post-it note with a single line scribbled on it]**

I think I'm in love with you.

* * *

 **So I didn't actually think that this was going to ever going to get an update but here one is.**

 **I also thought that I was going to leave the unnamed Sun unnamed but it got tedious to always refer to The Sun as** _ **The Sun**_ **so I decided to name** _ **The Sun,**_ **Natsuki.**

 **I tried to leave sections with notes as ambiguous as possible so that way you guys can decide whether Tsuna or Natsuki were the ones who penned those. I also made intentional grammatical errors to enhance the stylized way of writing I using for this fanfic.**

 **For updates on my other stories please check out my profile!**

 **And as always, let me know what you all think via PM or Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

[Evaporation]

 **i.** _I want to leave this place,_ Tsuna says. It is 12 o'clock noon – the sun burns hotly in the midday sky. There is an ice-cold can of soda in his hand, the condensation dripping around and over his skin and around his fingers like wax from a candle. They are sitting under a tree in the park; it's completely empty save for them. He throws back his head and squints up towards the crystal-blue sky hanging above and beyond the emerald-green leaves. There is a patchwork of golden sunlight on his face and clothes. He doesn't mind the blinding light.

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[Parents or Lack thereof Part 1]

parent [ **pair** - _uh_ nt, **par** -] _**noun, adjective, verb**_

A father or a mother

A source, origin, or cause

a _faceless_ pair of people that-

A protector, guardian

 _did not_ want him and-

An ancestor, precursor, or progenitor

– _returned_ him like he was some kind of defective object you hand over to exhausted customer service workers to get your money back-

In reference to biology: an organism that produces or generates another

–and he was returned over and over and over and over and-

When used as a verb (with an object or subject): to be or act as a parent of

– _over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…_

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[Evaporation]

 **ii.** _I want to leave this place,_ Tsuna says. It is 10:15 am in the morning – the sickly sweet perfume of a snubbed beauty clings to Natsuki's clothes like a growing, infectious mold. They were careless and dropped their guard. Bronze skin and wide shoulders are revealed as Natsuki peels off his jacket and shirt with a sharp frown. They are at a Laundromat hidden behind a maze of walls and buildings. It costs 525 yen to wash his clothes.

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[Deleted Photos That The Sun Used to Keep]

A new house. A crystal chandelier, the lit candles creating arches of fractured light. His black leather boots. Himself dressed in a pressed suit. Himself dressed in a pressed suit with a gorgeous raven-haired girl hanging off his arm – her dress is as red as blood. A litter of kittens. Another new house. The distant ocean from the inside of an airplane. A blue sky. A crowd of well-dressed strangers at a long-forgotten dinner. A selfie taken in a random restroom – his smile is too wide, too perky, too fake. Another new house. The breath-taking landscape of a nearby mountain from the balcony of a high-end hotel. A shaky image of flying birds. Yet another new house.

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[Ownership]

 _That Boy is not good for you,_ his parents say one dry summer evening. Their voices are low and reprimanding and there is a sudden buzzing in the back of his mind, a sudden rush of blood in his ears.

He pretends he didn't hear them.

 _He's going to end up dragging you down,_ his mother says, one nippy autumn morning, catching him as he's just about to leave the house – a set of keys in one hand and a thick jacket in the other. _He's not like us – not like you. You are destined for greatness! You were meant to shine above everyone else! That Boy is meant to stay in the shadows._ A slim hand with perfectly manicured nails strokes his cheek. _Natsuki, are you even listening to me?_

He nods his head but his eyes remain on a hairline crack in the wall.

 _Your current actions are causing us trouble,_ his father says, one frigid winter night, from across the dinner table. Dinner is a cut of wagyu steak with steamed potatoes. _In order for you to succeed in life, you must be constantly aware of the way you present yourself and be mindful of the connections you have. I heard that you turned down Commissioner Takeda's eldest daughter? Do not forget that we_ _ **chose**_ _you and are raising you to continue our legacy, Natsuki. You owe your current life and lifestyle to us._ His father places his silver cutlery down on the table and clasps his hands. _Our family has a strict reputation to uphold and an image to maintain._ _You can continue this… affair with That Boy, but, be more discrete about it. I will have to contact Commissioner Takeda to apologize on your behalf; his eldest daughter would make a fine bride and addition to the family. In the near future, keep in mind that without us, you would have nothing._

He spends a few more minutes in his parent's presence before politely asking to use the bathroom.

He does not return for the rest of the night.

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[Parents or Lack thereof Part 2a]

He's been told that all his life that he's the spitting image of his mother.

Brown eyes. Slim build. Cherubic face. Brown hair.

For the longest time, he was proud of that fact – his mother was the very definition of beauty and grace in his ( _naïve_ ) eyes and if he could obtain even an iota of that charm and loveliness, then he would be happy, then he could _be_ something to someone one day. Just like his mother was to his nameless, faceless father.

Something changed though.

Somewhere between the first time his gender and identity was mocked by his peers ( _much too feminine to be a boy and much too masculine to be a girl_ ) and the last time his pretty, wonderful, gentle, and kind mother ( _lies_ ) crushed the remains of that Thing in his chest that ceased working years ago, something changed.

He wonders if it would be better if that Thing really did stop working.

 _No one would miss him, after all._

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[Evaporation]

 **iv.** _I want to leave this place_ , Tsuna says. It is 2 o'clock in the afternoon – the sounds of tittering students and the roar of passing vehicles is muffled by the expansive window they are sitting next to. They are getting lunch in a popular café near their school and decide to share a crepe with far too much whipped cream and strawberries and honey and powdered sugar to be considered anything but unhealthy. He ignores the glares emitting from the other customers. The crepe tastes like ash in his mouth.

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[Parents or Lack Thereof Part 2b]

He dreams sometimes – _remembers_ – of a figure as tall and strong as a mountain, of a thunderous, booming laughter, of a warm hand on the crown of his head – grounding and comforting in its weight.

He wonders where that ghostly person went.

He remembers sometimes – _dreams_ – of a life where he has both parents raising him, of a life where he could come home to a soft mother and a sturdy father, of a life where he had someone to look up to and aspire to be.

He wonders when he stopped hoping – _praying_ – for that life to become reality.

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[Evaporation]

 **v.** _I want to leave this place_ , Tsuna says. It is 6 o'clock in the early morning – the curtains are drawn, casting the room in shadows. The radio is on and the sensually smooth rhythm and slow bass cords nearly lull him back to sleep. It is a Wednesday. They both have class in an hour. He, algebra. Natsuki, political science. Three hours later, they are still in bed.

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 **[written on the last page of a leather-bound notebook – the words are neat and concise, not a single letter out of place]**

Everyone says you're not good for me.

They are wrong – I know they are.

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[Evaporation]

 **vi.** _I want to leave this place,_ Tsuna says. It is 3 o'clock in the early morning – the streets are dark and the air is silent. There is an ice-cream cone in his hand purchased from a nearby convenience store. They are sitting on the steps of an abandoned home in the seedier part of town. He drops his head and narrows his eyes as he tears opens the packaging of the ice-cream cone. It's melon-flavored.

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[A Moment]

Tuesday night, the wind rushes pass Tsuna's ears, the motorcycle's engine roars beneath his legs, the heat from Natsuki's back sinks deep into his left cheek. Tsuna opens his eyes and watches the moon reflect off the ink-black sea. The thin line where the sky meets the water is a dark, gaping void that he can't tear his eyes from. It's alluring – a siren's call. He shifts, propping his chin on Natsuki's shoulder.

"Let's go the beach!"

"At this time of night?!"

A smile. "Why not?!"

A grin. "Why not!"

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[Evaporation]

 **vii.** _Let's leave this place_ , Natsuki says. It is 12 o'clock midnight – the stars twinkle and wink mischievously overhead, silent witnesses to their conversation. He's wearing thin, cotton pajama pants and nothing else. There is a packed bag in the corner of his room and a set of keys in his left hand and the echo of freedom and new beginnings in the curve of his lips. It is the dark of night, but his golden eyes glow with all the brilliance and brightness of the daytime sun. Tsuna can't help but fall into Natsuki's arms, whispering a breathless, _Yes_.

.

.

.

[Parents or Lack thereof Part 2c]

He realizes that The Sun would miss him – would miss its' Sky.


	4. Chapter 4

[Snapshot #1]

 **A beach with white sands and blue, blue,** _ **blue**_ **water. Tsuna stands at the junction where the sea meets the sand. His feet are bare. His shoes are in his hand. His jeans are rolled up to his knees. He's half-turned towards the camera, bright eyes flashing with unbridled excitement and joy – one hand reaching out towards the sky.**

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[365 Days]

 **Day 4**

Natsuki buys a messenger bag, four cans of the first soda he sees, and a party-sized bag of Tsuna's favorite chip at a gas station three towns away. They lean against the nearby railing outside the building and share the chips with artificially-flavored-stained fingers and wide smiles. Their journey is just beginning but at this moment, they are _free_.

 **Day 10**

They stop by a struggling Inn somewhere up a mountain. The waters of the open-air bath are scalding in their intensity yet soothing in their gentleness. Tsuna slides into the water first and Natsuki soon follows and they sit shoulder-to-shoulder, staring up at the starry night sky.

 **Day 16**

They buy two tickets to a small amusement park and stay there until closing.

 **Day 27**

They decide to spend a few days in the forests surrounding the next town they arrive in. The woods are silent as they make their bed out of a thin blanket and their pillows out of the four different types of jackets that Natsuki packed. Others would be cold, they are not.

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[A Moment]

Natsuki stares out at the ocean of tall grass and blooming wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. They are somewhere in the countryside, no other vehicle or man-made object in sight.

' _If I laid down somewhere in the grass, no one would be able to see me,'_ he thinks.

"Natsuki… here you go!"

He turns and accepts the wreath of bright poppies and round dandelions from Tsuna. The sunlight bathes the brunet in a halo of gold and white and creates stark shadows on his long lashes and thin shoulders and broad smile.

Natsuki finds his eyes drawn to the shy clavicle of Tsuna's that's just peeking out from the oversized sweater the brunet is wearing.

It is a tempting sight.

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 **.**

[Snapshot #2]

 **Natsuki is dressed in a plaid shirt, dark, leather jacket, and skinny jeans. His shoes are on the floor of some hotel and he is sprawled out on one of the two twin beds in the hotel room. He's asleep – his face is peaceful and one of his long legs is hanging off the edge of the bed. The image is slightly blurred, as if the person taking the photo was laughing when taking it.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[365 Days]

 **Day 52**

They each buy a ticket by closing their eyes and randomly pointing at a stop on the map. Tsuna's finger lands on a town five stops in. Natsuki's lands on a stop six towns after. They grin and board the train.

 **Day 77**

Natsuki accidentally bumps into a business acquaintance of his father's. He grabs Tsuna as the brunet is exiting a supermarket and they leave town.

 **Day 79**

Natsuki still glances over his shoulder.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[The Moment After]

In the same field where Tsuna gifted him the crown of flowers sitting on his head, Natsuki lays against the sun-warmed ground and looks up at the sky above.

It is spring… or maybe summer, he doesn't recall. Time seems like such a meaningless subject nowadays. It's hard to keep track of dates and numbers when all that really matters is spending time with the most important person in the world.

Natsuki feels his eyes shut and drifts away to the sounds of the wind and the warmth of the sun.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[365 Days]

 **Day 100**

Natsuki finally feels comfortable enough again – _safe_ enough again – to spend more than a day in any one town.

 **Day 105**

Tsuna is thankful and relieved that Natsuki is back to being his old self. The brunet wasn't sure what much he could do besides holding the golden boy close and whispering reassurances that _they wouldn't get caught_ and that it _was okay to be worried_.

 **Day 119**

Natsuki gifts Tsuna a new camera for his birthday and a long hug that expresses all his thanks and appreciation for the brunet.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[Snapshot #3]

 **A pair of monarch butterflies dancing on the wind – their luminescent wings barely kissing in the pink-streaked sky.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Written on a used napkin are words from an old song detailing lonely journeys of self-discovery and long roads at night and warm bodies wrapped around one another. Near the bottom of the napkin some words are scribbled out, as if the writer didn't want anyone to see them. Between the ink stains and grease, the letters:** _ **I**_ **-** _ **am**_ **-** _ **ve**_ **-** _ **you**_ **are visible.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[The Moment After That]

Natsuki wakes to the clear skies hidden within Tsuna's wide eyes and bright smile.

Tsuna stares down at the sunshine emitting from Natsuki's burning eyes and quirked lips.

In perfect synchrony, they move forward and their lips meet and the world slips away and the universe seems to _shift_ until they are at the center of everything and nothing at all – safe and loved in their shared embrace.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[365 Days]

 **Day 286**

Together they have scoured every last town and city in Japan.

 **Day 287**

Tsuna is the one that suggests they go abroad to see the rest of the world. Natsuki agrees and they pack everything they own in one suitcase and board the first flight to France.

 **Day 290**

They spend a warm, sunny afternoon taking in the sights and sounds of Lyon, France. They eat freshly baked, buttery _croissants_ and decadent chocolates and drink dark coffee, occasionally tasting the sweet and bitter flavors from each other's lips with wide smile and stained fingers and hushed laughter.

 **Day 365**

They run across someone with too sharp cheekbones and hair the color of starlight and haunted eyes the color of forests and emeralds and the smell of smoke curling about his body like a sensual lover. Green meets brown meets gold. Tsuna and Natsuki welcome the – _broken_ _ **lost**_ _discarded_ – _burning_ Storm with reassuring smiles and acceptance shining in their gazes. He – _Gokudera Hayato_ , is his name – falls quickly into their bubble.


	5. Chapter 5

[Breakfast]

"Breakfast is ready," the brunet says as he sticks his head out of the kitchen and into the adjoined living room.

Hayato grunts from his seat on the worn couch and rises – silent and scowling, still not fully trusting (but _wanting_ to, oh so wanting to) the strangers that have extended their hospitality to him.

He follows the brunet (so unguarded and unafraid, Hayato could have killed him eight times over already) out of the living and into the kitchen.

The motel they are renting at is one of the fancier ones – the type with an actual living room and kitchen built in.

He stops in at the threshold of where the kitchen would bleed into the dining room – which is nothing more than a clear corner of the kitchen, large enough to fit a tiny table and some chairs.

He stops – and watches – as the brunet and blond converse softly in Japanese before feeding one another spoonfuls of cut up pancakes and sliced fruit, warm smiles painted onto their tender faces.

… Such expressions are disgusting – are a _weakness_.

Hayato doesn't join them for breakfast.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The world _[and something else]_

The world tries to kill me _[there is a fire burning deep inside me]_

I won't let It.

The world tries to crush me _[something in my bones yearn to be free – to be released]_

I won't let Her.

The world tries to erase me _[it grows stronger and stronger with each passing day, hour, second]_

I won't let Him.

The world tries to end me _[grows until it is a typhoon, hurricane, storm of ME]_

I won't let Them.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **chess in the morning sun**

Hayato is sitting on one end of the window seat – the space barely wide enough for him, a small, wooden chess board, and Natsuki though, somehow, they make it work.

He's straddling the thin line where the seat meets the window ledge meets the outside of the apartment building they are renting. His right leg is planted firmly on the warm, wooden floor of the studio apartment. His left leg is dangling ten stories in the air, warmed by the morning sun despite the cool kiss of the passing breeze.

He looks down, stares intensely at the wooden chess board situated between him and Natsuki. He's hunched over slightly, jade-eyes and sharp-mind calculating and recalculating moves.

From what he's observed of Natsuki over the past month they've been travelling together, the blond is the type of person to hold back and protect the pieces most important to him. He also tends to favor the bishop and rook pieces.

Hayato's slim, calloused, fingers finally make their move, plucking up his remaining knight and moving it two squares up and one square to the left – towards the window.

He leans back and glances out to see the morning sun brilliantly illuminating the cityscape stretched out far below him.

He closes his eyes and sways slightly.

If he so chose to, he could end everything right here, right now.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _What Do You Want?_ – Q&A

 _What Do You Want?_ – Hayato watches.

(acceptance)

(love)

(respect)

 _What Do You Want?_ – Hayato looks.

(for people to stop telling me that everything is my fault)

(people who will understand)

(I cannot control the circumstances of my birth nor the blood in my veins nor the people who would call themselves my kin)

 _What Do You Want?_ – Hayato stares.

(warmth)

(happiness)

(someone, **anyone** , who would look at me the way they-)

 _What Do You Want?_ – Hayato wishes.

(to be myself. FREE .loved)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Concept: love comes in a myriad of forms

Pale **skin** and shining eyes

A taut muscular back covering a warm body, **delicate fingers and long eyelashes**

Dark, roasted coffee and green tea

A soft melody, sung in a low, unintelligible murmur and smoke curling up from a lit cigarette

 **Skin further darkened by the summer sun and sunbeam eyes**

A small smile and tilted head

A carless grin and raised brow

Plain t-shirts and **bomber** jackets and jeans and hiking boots

Intertwined, interlocked, fingers

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

(What People Say, What People Mean, What People Think…)

My sister used to say, "Let's spend some more time together."

She meant, "come with me so that I can poison you slowly."

I thought, (no. why do I have to? why do you have to smile that empty smile and pretend to care about me when you clearly, never, have? why do I have to eat your food to improve my performances? isn't what I do, isn't how I normally play enough? _why are you lying to yourself?_ )

My father used to say, "Your piano skills have improved! Keep it up!"

He meant, "I'm proud of you and the way you contribute to my image and reputation, if you ever stop, I will no longer be proud of you."

I thought, (no. that's not something I want. I don't want to have to play and play and play for people who will be nothing more than faceless phantoms to me. I don't want to spend hours and days and weeks and months and years perfecting my skills. I want to read and experiment and learn and _grow_.)

My 'mother' used to say, "You are such an obedient child."

She meant, "Just stay quiet and do as you are told."

I thought, (no. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be a pretty, little puppet doing whatever I was told. I wanted to scream and shout and yell and rage at all the incompetent fools who thought they were better, smarter, stronger, than me. I wanted to break free of the shackles that were holding me down and prove to the world – and to myself – that I could _be_ someone.)

My mentor used to say, "You're doing it wrong."

He meant, "I don't like the fact that you have taken something that belongs to me and improved it to make it more effective."

I thought, (no. why do I have to do it exactly like you? why can't I figure out a way that makes sense to me? why can't I do it my way? why does it matter when all that counts is the result? why don't you actually _teach_ me something instead of just standing there?!)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Concept: love comes in a myriad of forms

Warm breaths and cold hands

A hand on my shoulder, a hand on the small of my back

A restaurant – the patrons are watching, staring, judging

Shocked blood

Sharp, biting words

Hushed, dangerous threats

Solidarity in the face of adversity

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _Stay_

\- " _Aren't you cold?"_

\- crawl into bed with me and rest your head on my beating heart

\- curl your body into mine and forget the world and Her cruelty

\- wrap your arms around me and lose yourself in the warmth

\- close your eyes and count the breaths we all take

 _\- ignore the fear and terror racing up your spine and stealing your sanity_

\- do not tense as hands hold your face and trace your freckles

\- do not tense as hands glide over scars and burns that you have long forgotten about

\- do not tense as lips brush over your shoulder bone, feather-light and apologetic

\- do not tense as lips kiss the crown of your skull then the center of your forehead then your tears

\- do not tense at the sudden burst of emotion rocketing through your very soul

 _\- dreadanduncertainityandpanicandhopeandgriefandreliefandjoyand(love)_

\- "Stay with us…?"

\- "Stay with us."

\- "… _Yes…"_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **chess in the evening**

Natsuki is sitting on one end of the window seat – the space barely wide enough for him, a small wooden chess board, and Hayato though, somehow, they make it work.

He is sitting sideways on the seat, shirtless, the upper half of his body rotated to face the board and Hayato. His bare feet rest comfortably on the cool, wooden floor of the studio apartment they've been renting for the past two days. The single light bulb is a cheap thing, barely giving off enough light to illuminate the tiny space. The full moon, however, more than makes up for it, as do the lights from the other buildings and houses.

He looks down, stares intensely at the worn, wooden chess board situated between him and Hayato. He's sitting straight up, hand on his chin and sun-eyes and sharp-mind mulling over his next move.

From what he's observed of Hayato over the past three months they've been travelling together, the Italian is the type of person to attack relentlessly and guard the pieces most important to him. He also tends to favor the Queen and pawns.

Natsuki's long, tanned, fingers finally make their move, picking up his King and moving it one square to the left – towards the interior of the room.

He leans back and glances out to see the pale moon brilliantly shining down on the cityscape stretched out far below him.

He turns his head back to the room and sees Tsuna, slumbering peacefully on the twin-sized bed the apartment came with. The sheets are wrapped tightly around his thin frame, his cheek planted firmly against one of two pillows – the other has fallen on the floor in a sad, rumpled heap.

He closes his eyes and smiles at the glorious sight.

If he so chose to, he could join Tsuna on the bed right now.

He doesn't.

He turns back to the chess board and sees Hayato's retreating hand, having just moved a black bishop to claim one of his white pawns.

Hand still on his chin, he looks down at the battlefield and thinks.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Concept: love comes in a myriad of forms

It comes in the combination of Sun and Sky.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

[Dinner]

"Dinner is ready," Tsuna says as he sticks his head out of the kitchen and into the adjoined living room.

Hayato grunts from his seat on the worn couch and rises – leaving his copy of _I Malavoglia_ by Giovanni Verga open on the armrest of the sofa.

He follows the brunet out of the living room and into the kitchen.

The hotel they are renting at is one of the cheaper ones – there is a small living room area with an attached kitchenette.

He stops in at the threshold of where the kitchen would lead into the dining room – which is nothing more than an open corner of the kitchen, large enough to squeeze in a tiny table and some chairs.

He stops – and watches – as the Tsuna and Natsuki converse softly in Japanese before feeding one another spoonfuls of pieces of grilled fish and salad, warm smiles displayed so openly on their faces. When they see him just standing there, they turn in unison, and beckon him forward – still smiling so brightly and tenderly.

… Such expressions are still new to him.

But, they are growing more and more common as time moves on.

Hayato joins them for dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

the little things

he had learned to appreciate the little things when he was young;

stray cats in hidden alley-ways,

a cup of strong coffee in the morning,

stolen minutes, blessed, and alone,

the world is a terrible place;

frightening and cruel and unrepentant,

but,

look for the small slivers of peace and,

hoard them,

for when days are exceptionally terrible

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

11 Lines About Love Or Loss

1\. It's what drives us away from others

2\. Do you remember when we rode the train home from the beach with sand clinging to our skin and clothes and the scent of the sea embedded into our very souls? We went home, bright-eyed and drained, with cobalt tongues from the shaved ice we ate. When we kissed, I could taste blue raspberry and salt and _freedom_ in your mouth.

3\. I dream about you every night

4\. Every time I see you, wreathed in a halo of light and _sky_ , I want to drop to my knees and kiss the altar that I have placed you upon. I want to pray to the Gods sitting so arrogantly on their thrones – to you – for my love and devotion to you to be everlasting and infinite.

5\. There is a never ending void deep within me, urging me to fill it with-

- _you_

6\. Do you remember when we stumbled out of that bar in Hamburg, Germany? We both reeked of whiskey and sweat and bourbon and _sin._ We went home, bleary-eyed and laughing, liquid courage flooding our veins and burning our throats. When we kissed, I could taste caramel and smoke and desire in your mouth.

7\. Your name is constantly on my tongue, in my mind, destroying my heart

8\. Every time I see you, pondering picturesquely vacant at the things only you have witness, I want to fall to me knees and kiss your fears away. I want to pray to the Gods sitting so high up on their thrones – to you – for my love and commitment to you to be strong enough to break you from your memories.

9\. I never want to let you go

10\. Do you remember when we all fell into bed in a tangle of limbs and familiarity somewhere in a hotel in Austria? We laid there, relaxing in the warmth and tenderness with heavy limbs and soaring hearts – hearts that were free to want and desire and _love_. When we kissed, and kissed, and kissed the world melted away until it was just the Sun, Storm, and Sky living in Harmony.

11\. It's what draws us to others

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

A Café

They are at a café located somewhere in suburban Belgium.

It's a quaint, tiny little thing with tiny windows, tiny tables, tiny chairs, tiny booths, tiny food, and tiny prices. The three of them squeeze into the booth closest to the front window, none of them minding the cramp seating or the elbows digging into their sides and arms.

They are laughing, smiling at something, perhaps deciding on where to go to next or telling each other jokes.

The owner of the café, a tiny old lady with trembling hands but a knowing, understanding smile, brings them three slices of roll cake and three drinks: coffee, tea, and cordial.

They thank her with wide smiles, leaning over one another to sample the cakes and share their chosen drinks and kiss and laugh and _live_.

They stay until the moon is high in the night sky and the stars are plentiful.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

the little things

he had learned to appreciate the little things when he was young;

an improved score,

a home cooked meal in a small kitchen,

a proud smile, fleeting, and empowering,

the world is a terrible place;

frightening and merciless and unrepentant,

but,

look for the small slivers of joy and,

remember them,

for when days are exceptionally terrible

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

(Secrets)

"Tell me a secret."

\- What kind of secret?

"It doesn't matter."

(there is both light and darkness in the depths of your eyes and the line of your shoulders, and I love it, I would not change a single aspect about you for all the riches in the world, your very existence is something I would spend centuries studying even though I would not even begin to understand the entirety that is you.)

\- I don't know what to tell you…

"Something. Anything."

(you have haunted my thoughts and visited my dreams ever since the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I have memorized the slant of your nose, the curve of your back, the sweep of your lashes, the feel of your fingers on me and the brilliance of your smile, I would know you in the middle of a crowd even blind, deaf, and numb.)

\- Okay… I'm afraid.

"Of what?"

(infinity, nothingness, being alone, crowds of nameless, faceless people, losing you, and you, I'm terrified of you because I love you and because you can destroy me at any moment and I would be okay with that, of dying by your hand, though, I am less afraid of dying than I am losing you, losing you scares me the most.)

\- Losing you.

"… Me too…"

\- Want to know another secret?

"… Sure."

\- I love you.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Do Not Love Me

"I loved you!"

Hayato stares down the woman, unimpressed. She is beautiful; a waterfall of wavy blonde hair cascading down her back and wide, shining caramel eyes and long, tanned legs and rouge lips and dark mascara. She is wearing a blood-red dress that hugs her body in all the right places. Strappy, stiletto heels accentuate her calves and give her height. Her full lips tremble, her perfectly manicured hands shake, her velvety voice warbles when she speaks, but, there are no tears in her eyes. Her makeup is impeccable. Eyes cold and calculating.

He knows what this is – _who_ she is.

She doesn't " _love_ " him.

Not like Tsuna or Natsuki.

Hayato inhales, smoke filling his lungs and calming his rising ire. He exhales, smoke streaming out his mouth and nostrils like a dragon. When he speaks around the cigarette hanging from his mouth – a new brand that he hadn't tried yet, though Natsuki seemed to favor it – it's with an ease and expertise that he has carefully cultivated over many years.

"Stop wasting my time, Bitch."

He knows that she'd tie him down, force him to act and behave a certain way, show him off like he was a beast only she'd manage to tame.

Disgusting.

She draws back, as if slapped. Her eyes widen even more. Her lips quiver. Her hands fly up to her ample chest, as if to hold her breaking heart.

"Why… why are you treating me so… so… _callously_ , Hayato?! I-I thought you… _loved_ me?! We… We were going to get married and have three children and live in a small home in the Italian countryside a-and grow old together!"

By now, they have drawn a crowd of gawking, sympathetic onlookers – sympathetic to her, that is.

Hayato's hand twitches, wanting nothing more than to draw out a stick of dynamite and blast this blonde nuisance out of reality. He inhales once more, and then exhales.

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Bitch."

"D-Don't say that, Hayato…! _Please_! I-If it's the other people y-you've been with I-I'll forgive you for that! I-I just want to _be_ with you, Hayato! I love you!"

Hayato glances at the clock tower a few blocks over and scowls.

He drops the cigarette to the cobblestone ground, and puts it out with the heel of his shoe before walking towards the woman, a guilty, sorrowful expression on his face. He reaches out to her and she falls into his arms with a sigh of relief, her long nails digging into his back like claws wanting to rip into his flesh. He pulls her flush against his body and shudders in disgust.

To the gaping imbeciles around them, it looks like he's been overcome with grief and shame.

The color of her hair is wrong. Her eyes are not the right shade of brown. Her height isn't what he's used to and the lines and curves of her body are foreign to him.

He buries his nose in her thick hair, just above her ear.

"… Listen here, _Bitch_. I don't know who the _fuck_ you are, nor which Family you're from, but, you are going to die. You've just put me in a bad mood and if you did any sort of fucking recon on me, then you know just how bad my temper can be… There's a reason why Storms are named after people, you know?"

Hayato pulls away and smiles – an angelic thing that would have made her heart flutter if it wasn't already fluttering in panic. He drops his arms and sweeps past her.

Bombs are detonated, Storm Flames are activated and explosions rip through the town square before he has even turned the corner onto the next street.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

the little things

he had learned to appreciate the little things when he was young,

a sister who listened, once upon a time,

a soft melody on a piano,

a loving embrace, faded, and heartbroken,

the world is a terrible place;

frightening and cruel and unforgiving,

but,

look for the small slivers of comfort and,

keep them,

for when days are exceptionally terrible

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The Trio

The Storm – Silver hair, shining like the rings and piercings and necklaces and bracelets that cover his arms, fingers, neck, face, and body. Emerald eyes, sharp like the jagged ends of broken glass that can hurt and bleed and kill with a single strike. Smoke, curls around him and seeps into his skin, blood, bones, soul like a possessive phantom. Anger, raging and ugly like the Storms that sweep the coasts.

The Sun – Blond hair, shining like a burning halo around his head, like he was a king, a god, an angel cursed to fall and to walk among mortals. Golden eyes, glowing like the essence of the very Sun and stars were melted down and poured into his gaze, captivating and painful to look at. Cologne, fire, smoke, sunlight, wraps around him and seeps into his clothes, skin, blood, bones like a raging wildfire. Radiance, awe inspiring and ethereal like divinity given a human form.

The Sky – Brown hair, shining like the nostalgic colors of autumn, like he was a spirit of the hearth and security and of a home of time long passed. Brown eyes, a shade darker than pine honey that could turn a dazzling, burning orange, reminiscent of a sunset blazing the expanse of the infinite horizon. Acceptance, wide and spacious and all-encompassing as the clear Sky connects everyone living on Earth embraces him and seeps into his words, gaze, blood, bones like a second skin. Harmony, comforting and soothing like he was someone you could call Home.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

the little things – ending

(or find love)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Illusions

They meet two people with similar hairstyles and haunted eyes, one foggy evening somewhere in along the border of Belgium and Austria.

They were camping, a newly purchased tent set up behind them and a roaring campfire in front of them, when the duo appeared. Silent and unexpected. Like ghosts emerging from the shadows.

Hayato tensed, ready to drive these two _Mists_ away from his Sky and Sun, but, backed down when Natsuki and Tsuna simply smiled and offered the pair some food and drinks and a place to spend the evening.

They accepted, moving in complete unison until they were seated, safely, on the other side of the fire.

"Tsuna."

"Natsuki"

"… Hayato."

"… Mukuro."

"… Chrome…"

They ate canned tomato soup and toasted slices of bread with goat cheese for dinner before roasting marshmallows over the campfire.


End file.
